Heavenly
by thesafestpsycoticbitch
Summary: "What if... Angel Face had a life? A girl? Someone he could call family, before Tyler took him away from this very life?" - Angel/OC ; one-shot.


**Heavenly**

_And if a double-decker bus crashes into us  
To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die  
_.

**notes;** What if... Angel Face had a life? A girl? Someone he could call family, before Tyler took him away from this very life? It's with this idea that this came out. I've writing it non stop, after weeks it had turned into my little brain. It's not brilliant - the ending is really crappy -, but it's thoughts, fastly writen. And... I kind of like it! Because Fight Club really changed my perspective of life and adding my ink into its' autor... By the way, did you see Chuck Palahniuk's note at the end of the book? Crazy. I hope you are not out there, starting a Fight Club to feel alive... even if, as you know, the first rule of the Fight Club is _you do not talk about the __Fight Club_.

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My kitchen was very small, even more if we were two in it. The money I earned combined with Angel's salary didn't allowed us to buy a beautiful house, or at least a bigger one. We weren't in the need, but... sometimes it was hard.

The job I thought I'd do when I was a little girl granted a better salary, but as everything I hoped or even beleved I'd do, I'd have and I'd be when I was younger has just... vanished at the same time as my naïvety (_or so I liked to think. Now I know I was too lazy, like the rest of us, now that I stopped hoping_).

And so it was hard to move to reach the ringing phone in my small kitchen where I was laughing with my neighbourhood. But eventually I succeded. ( _Later I'll wish that I'd fail to get the damn phone before it'd slip away, like pretty much every other things in my entire life._) Calming my laugh but keeping a smile, I took the phone off the hook and said :

"Allo?"

"Allo, is this Miss Elena Stewart speaking?" a serious male voice asked.

I had a very bad feeling in my guts. I lost the smile before quickly looked up to Anne's face, then I turned around, facing the sink and looking through the window. It was dark outside, for a late morning.

"Yes," I answered.

"Miss Stewart, you are the emergency number of Mr Angel..."

I was on the ground before I could hear the end of the sentence. I vaguely saw Anne rushing towards me but I didn't paid attention. I felt like my life was into the man's words, ready to fall apart depending on the words he'd choose.

"Miss Stewart, I am calling because he was admitted to the Wilmington General Hospital yesterday night after an aggresion."

"An aggression!?" I cried out.

"Yes, we had troubles contacting you but... Miss Stewart, could you please come here? We have some papers we'd like you to sign. Do you have the address?"

"N-No, never had to."

"All right, I'm going to give it to you. Do you have a pen and a paper near you?"

"A second please," I asked.

I reached out a hand to grab that. A wrinking. A breath. The silence. A pause in the Univers. And the terrified anxiety, like a monster, watching, waiting around the corner.

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As I was driving, flashes of memories took place throught the tears running down my cheeks.

_Angel's smile. He's so lovely when he smiles. He was not particulary out-standing in the crowd of people you just met - except, maybe with his blond hair -, but when he comes to you, makes you laugh and smiles, proud of him, you look at him. Really. He is not dashing, not beautiful, he is not even particulary muscled like you like them to be ; he has a "pretty boy" look. But then he smiles at you and none of this matters, because there it was. A moment, a capture of his beatiful soul and you _know_. You know why your friend who introduced him to you said he was beautiful. It has nothing physical about it as you thought, it is his soul, young, kind, sweet but most of all... good._

_Angel's sex. Where you're impatient but sweet, he's impatient and greedy. Almost too much, but you know he's as burning of desire as you are, you can feel it (_Already one before actually merge_). It's not your house, it's his, so you keep bumping into the furniture at every orner bathed into the shadows. However, each salve of pain is followed by a stronger salve of desire, lust and - could that be love? (_A coupe of years later, when you'll be into your shabby house, watching the flash news, and your angel's face on the screen is accused of crimes you can't understand, you'll consider how ironic it was that at this very moment pain was cobined with pleasure and it felt_ good_._) You make love under the sheets, into your precious intimate world where all you need is the other. Angel is nothing but mellow as a lover. Later when you lay head to head with him and he's asleep and you're not, you contemplate his beautiful face and you _know_. This is it, you'll never let him down, you'll never stop loving him. He's your Angel but your his too. This is it. You know he's the one._

_Angel's tears. There's a blinding sunbeam coming through the window, directly into your eyes but that's not why you're crying. Words are rushing out of Angel's lips, sometimes rougher than intended to, sometimes inexact, words colliding with the others, some half eaten by his teeth, but you understand. He tells you about his broken home, where one day his daddy just got up his chair and walk out of the door to never come back. He tells you that his mom was never really the same after that. No siblings, always alone. "Not anymore," you whisper. And you hold him, crying as much as he cries. He tells you more and more, sometimes raving a bit, but what you said is truth. You're here now with him, you love him. You'll spoil him with your love._

_Angel's first black eye. It's a late night where he comes home after having a drink with his friend. It's been hours you called him, it's almost midnight, you're worried sick. You called almost every one, the only thing rassuring you is that his friends' wife said that none of their husbands were home too. You promised them to call them in the morning. When the front door opens, you immediatly turn and run to him. You're about to yell, to cry, to hug, you've forget, but you stop in you tracks when you see his face. Despite his wide grin, his excited eyes, he has an enormous black eyes and hair dirty with dust and blood. You carry a hand to your mouth. "Oh my God," you whisper. "What happened to you?" He laughes, walks to you and hugs you in one movement. You reject him. You're about to yell or throw some things at him to make him understand, but he doesn't seem to care and forces his lips on yours. He brokes the kiss and quickly says "Baby. I'm all right. We'll fight in the morning, okay? For now, you just have to know that I'm all right and that I just want to feel myself in you." You're stunned but let him make love to you and it's unusual, wild, primal, almost violent ; pleasure for pleasure. In the morning when you call his friends' wifes, you don't mention the black eye. None of them mentions a fight too. (_A few months later, you realize maybe you should have reacted now and maybe that would have saved him._)_

_Angel's kiss. His lips are so soft, nibling in your greedy ones, calming your beating heart in a second. He gently passes one hand in between your neck's hair and caressed your right cheek with the other. Suddendly he bites you. Instead of crying out, your surprise fades out in a second and a smile plays on your lips. _Here's my mad young dog. _This has reminded you that he's not only a sweet loving angel, he's also more than that. He has so more depth and you just want to go down and discover every inch of his beautiful soul. You already know that that face went through a lot and it came back, not without some scars - but thoses stories are for another time. Now you're here, his face cupped in your hands and his mouth on yours and yours on his. You still grin when you kiss him again and again. You pass your hands behind his neck and your fingers in his baby hair and when he lows his arms and his hands come to rest on your waist. He brokes the kiss and puts his forehead against yours. A moment, a silence. The heat of the breath comes to lose into the other one's. You remember that one of your hands slides up his chest and you smile, before it fades away. Slightly smaller than him, your pretty turned-up nose sneaks under his, caresses a nostril and your lips land on his very own, tender. (_This is what I want_.)_

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There was two men in black clothes at the entrance of Angel's room, blocking me the view of the room. When I tried to pass over them, both pushed me away.

"Hey," I said. "I have a right to be here. Please move aside. Move. Move!"

I started to kick on their black shirts and to push them, as I was gone mad by anxiety, but I was small and they wouldn't even look at me, staring right in front of them. However, a weak voice made them move. It said :

"_Let her in..._"

I reconized the voice. They both moved aside at the same time as they were machines and I finally could see Angel.

"Oh my God," I gasped.

He was lying in the hospital bed, in a hospital robe. His angelic blond hair were getting greasy and the roots were darker than the last time I saw him. But most of all... his face... Oh God his once beautiful angelic _face_... All of the visible skin was tumefied, swollen and bruisied. One eye was shut and the other one was bloodshot.

"Elena," he managed to articulate and he smiled.

Oh dear, he _smiled_. He had no more than eight teeths still intact or partly broken, all the others... gone. I threw myself at his feet, tears in the eyes but not one flooding. He tenderly touched my face, eyes full of tears of his own. I finally reached a hand to caress his face but held my hand at the very last moment, prefering to place it in his hand.

"What happened?" I managed to ask in a low voice. "I thought you were in a seminar out of town or something, for your job."

"I know. I was...," he hesitated. "I was aggressed."

_Liar_. But deep down, I knew I didn't want to know.

"They beat me up pretty badly."

"What did the doctor said?"

He caressed my cheek, avoiding my eyes. "Irrecoverable."

Deep down, I also knew I didn't care about that.

"I missed you, Angel-"

"Miss," a doctor passed a head at the door. "The visit hours are ending. You must leave now."

"One minute please," I said, then turned my head toward Angel's. "I missed you, my love. And I don't care about your face, just wait for-"

"Miss," the doctor insited.

"A minute! Angel, as soon as you can, you come home, okay?"

The doctor took me by the arm and started to drag me out of the room.

"Angel!" I cried out. "I love you. Come home, okay? You-"

"Miss-"

"I don't care of anything you did_. I love you_. Come home-"

The door shut in front of my face, cutting the view of Angel's horrible face from my eyes. I looked angrily at the doctor's impassive face.

"I think you should leave, Miss."

And so I did. And when I came back the next day, he was checked out. And my Angel never came home. All of this promises, all of this love just... vanished.

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